The first breath of dawn tasted like metal and rain.
Aniya crept through the servant's corridor, veil tucked beneath her coat, bouquet left behind like a lie she no longer needed.
Every step was rehearsed.
Down the east wing. Past the chapel. Through the blind alley behind the stables.
A soft trill in her earpiece—Marco's signal.
All clear.
---
The east gate waited ahead.
A van idled, taillights glowing faint red in the fog.
Aniya's heart thundered. The silk hem of her gown tangled at her ankles. She didn't slow down.
The passenger door opened.
Antonio stepped out—slimmer, rougher, walking with a limp but alive.
Scar down his jaw. Shirt half-buttoned. And eyes—
Still his.
They collided in silence.
No tears. Just breath and bone and disbelief.
“You're real," she whispered.
